I'm listening to this band called Jump, Little Children. It's pretty good.
I've been in a rollercoaster of sorts today - or at the risk of sounding dramatic, I've been on the Pendulum of Hysteria. One moment I am absolutely sure that I am a dead failure and then the next moment I feel that I can do it. I can do it. I can do it. Then suddenly: SWOOP!! I'm on the other end of the fence and I feel like crap again. This can't be good for my health.
As the motto of late has been to stop wasting time worrying and spend the time to actually do stuff, I have been focusing on reading and thinking and writing notes, rinse and repeat. I can see myself improving but it is slow-moving and I am impatient. I can see areas of my life that I can/should improve, but I don't have time for that now, and I am not courageous enough to step out of my comfort zone. As such, I am dragging my feet, hoping that everything will be okay and it is me overthinking and being neurotic as usual. Maybe. SWOOP!! Maybe not. I don't know.
I have also changed my CS status to "Maybe" instead of "Yes". I don't think I'm in the state to host, not for a couple of months anyway, until I get my shit together and can actually afford to have a life. The downside to this is that I am back to spending a lot of time with the company of myself, being annoying in my head as usual. At times when I am eating oatmeal in front of the TV, taking a break from my imaginary friend Blumer and his verbose monologues, I reflect on how life would be much nicer if I had a boyfriend, if just to sit in front of the TV together eating oatmeal with coconut milk sprinkled with mixed herbs and salt. I'd probably be enjoying his silent torment about the odd food that I'm feeding him.
And then reality hits and I realize that I don't have time for a boyfriend. I don't even have time for couchsurfers. Back to my oatmeal and Blumer I retreat. Is this how I am going to remember the best years of my life? Is Blumer an acceptable reason for resorting to a sperm bank? Might Blumer have any suggestions on how I'm going to explain to my kid the absence of a father figure?
I think I am in love. I should probably steal his sperm or something. [Insert elaborate plan involving handcuffs, a sperm bank and C4 explosives] [You mean there's an easier way to do it?]
